


if i never knew you

by Spannah339



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M, Hurt Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider, Hurt/Comfort, Manhandling, Scars, Whump, and throwing some soft new dream stuff at the end, eugene - sorry FLYNN - just has a bad time, this is just me trying to beat my writer's block by writing gratuitous eugene whump, tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Spannah339
Summary: Me: Man, I really hate writing Flynn instead of Eugene I should stop doing thatAlso me: Hey write a thing set before Eugene meets Rapunzel and SUFFER
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 76





	if i never knew you

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Man, I really hate writing Flynn instead of Eugene I should stop doing that  
> Also me: Hey write a thing set before Eugene meets Rapunzel and SUFFER

The ropes were tight around his wrists, the strain on his arm becoming achingly uncomfortable. Flynn shifted his weight as best he could with his hands bound to the roof above him, his feet just barely scraping the ground. He squinted out at the world through his one good eye, the other sealed shut by a mixture of bruising and blood from the wound on his head. 

From the light that shone through the roughly barred up windows of the cottage, he estimated it had been about half a day since he had first been tied here. His captors had not seen fit to give him any food, just tied him up and ignored him. 

Flynn wasn’t sure if he was thankful for that or annoyed. At least if they were going to kidnap him they should give him some  _ attention _ . 

He craned his neck up, twisting his hands to try and pull them free. They were starting to go numb, which was probably a bad sign, but at least it wasn’t the rough scraping of the rope digging into his skin. 

The door swung open and Flynn flinched, his attention snapping towards the three men who stepped into the room. He didn’t recognise any of them, which was either a good sign or a really  _ bad _ sign. 

“Evening, boys,” he greeted, his voice dry. What he would give for a drink of water right now. 

“A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Rider,” the lead said, stepping forward, the other two flanking him. They were all large, but Flynn was pretty sure he could take them if it came to that. Ideally, he would avoid them altogether and run, but that would require  _ not _ having his hands tied above him. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, flashing a winning grin. “Though I believe you have the advantage on me - who are you?” 

“I’m asking the questions,” the lead man said. He stepped forward, a little too close for comfort and Flynn had to look up to meet his eyes. 

“Well, maybe if we all just get to know each other better we can talk about this -” He was cut off by a fist to his stomach, knocking the air out of him in a rush. He gasped for breath, ropes digging into his wrists again as he tried to curl into himself. 

Before he managed to fully recover his breath, a hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head up. The other man’s face was directly in front of his and Flynn took an unsteady gasp, trying to ease the fire in his stomach. 

“You stole something from me,” the man said and Flynn shrugged. He took another shaky breath and grinned slightly. 

“I’ve stolen a lot of things,” he managed to breathe. The man scowled, dropping his hair and Flynn’s head sagged. He gasped, closing his eyes for a moment and recovered before looking up again. “You’re going to have to be a lot more specific. Are we talking money, or priceless sentimental object? Because there  _ is _ a difference, and while I  _ do _ steal the latter, if it is that -” A knife flashed through the air, pressing lightly against his neck and stopping the words in his throat. He swallowed uneasily, trying to shift away from the blade. 

“Enough,” the man said. He grabbed Flynn’s hair again, hauling his head up and pressing the point of the knife to the bottom of his chin. Flynn took shallow breaths, eyes flicking between the blade and the face staring down at him. “You’re going to pay for taking it.” 

“Again. Still don’t know what we’re talking about,” Flynn said, trying to smile. The blade dug deeper into his chin and he stiffened. 

“A priceless music box - you’re going to tell me where it is.” 

Flynn hesitated a moment, trying to place the item. When he finally did, he shrugged as best he could. 

“Oh, that. Yeah, I honestly didn’t think it was that valuable? Sold it, clearly not for enough if you say it was pricel-” 

The slap to his face knocked his head to one side, filled his mouth with blood as he bit his tongue and set his ears ringing, but at least the knife wasn’t at his throat anymore. He dropped his head, shutting his eyes and waiting for the pounding to fade - he really needed to learn to keep his mouth shut sometimes. 

“I should kill you right now, Rider,” the man growled, stepping closer. “Lucky for you I won’t.” 

Flynn looked up at him and spat blood into his face. He was going to regret that, but honestly, it was worth it to see his face. 

The man stepped back and carefully wiped a hand over his face. He didn’t react, and somehow that was more terrifying than the anger Flynn had expected. He twisted his wrists again, heart beginning to beat quickly as the man slowly slid his knife back into his belt. 

“I think I’m going to enjoy this,” he said evenly. Then he lunged forward and slammed his fist into Flynn’s side. 

Pain shot through him and he gritted his teeth, trying to shy away from the blow as best he could. But another fist slammed into his ribs and he let out a gasp of air, trying to curl into himself. 

The man pulled out the knife again and Flynn watched with some wariness as he reached up. With one smooth slice, he cut through the ropes holding Flynn up. 

Flynn collapsed - his legs suddenly unable to support him, his ribs sending pain shooting through him as he dropped. He tried to catch himself with his hands, but they were stiff and shaking after being held above him for so long. 

He curled on the ground for a second, trying to catch his breath, when a boot slammed into his ribs. With a shuddering gasp he tried to crawl away, but the boot pressed onto his back, pinning him to the ground. 

The boot was replaced by a knee, and his captor leaned low over him, his knee digging into Flynn’s back, his ribs beating a painful tempo as he struggled to breathe. A hand grabbed his hair again and hauled his head back and sideways so he was glaring uncomfortably up at the man holding him down. 

“Oh, don’t worry Rider. I’m not going to kill you - you’ve got debts you still need to pay and the Baron would be quite put out if you were killed before you repaid them. I’m just going to make you regret ever coming into  _ my _ home.” 

Pain burned through Flynn’s side and he gasped, trying to turn his head to see what was causing it. He caught a glint of metal, a flash of deep, red blood and the pain washed over him. 

His captor smirked, flicking the wrist that wasn’t holding Flynn’s hair and withdrawing the knife from his skin. Flynn shut his eyes against the waves of pain, gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to show any more reaction. 

“This  _ is _ fun,” his captor said with a smirk, and then slammed Flynn’s head against the floor. His vision flickered for a second, stars flashing through his mind but still he refused to make any sound. Then his head was hauled up again and he shut his eyes. 

Again, his head was slammed down and this time the world went black. 

He woke in a pool of his own blood. 

He was lying on the floor, almost exactly where he had passed out, his head pounding, his side burning, his ribs throbbing. For a long moment, he stayed still, eyes closed, afraid his captors were still around, just waiting for him to wake up to renew their beating. 

Finally, he risked opening his eyes, groaning slightly as his head protested the light. He was still in the rundown room he had been tied in, moonlight seeping in through cracks in the walls and windows. 

“ _ Move, Rider _ ,” he told himself and gritted his teeth. Shutting his eyes again, he took a deep breath and moved to push himself up. As soon as he did he gasped, collapsing to the ground again and shutting his eyes against the involuntary tears of pain. 

But he had no choice - he knew he couldn’t stay here. With a low growl, he forced himself up on shaking hands, his side sending blinding white pain through his whole body. He had no idea how deep or long that cut was, all he knew was that it probably needed attention he wasn’t going to be able to give it. 

Wrapping an arm around his ribs and spreading his hand across the wound, he staggered to his feet and leaned heavily against the wall. He would have to find or steal a first aid kit - with any luck his captors would have left some bandages lying around - or even better, left his bag untouched. Unfortunately, it was far more likely they had left him nothing, and he was going to have to search for something to stop the bleeding. 

He glanced down at the wound, carefully pulling the bloodsoaked sides of his shirt away from the cut and wincing at the long, jagged wound. Ideally, it would need stitches - probably more than a few. He swayed, feeling strangely dizzy, and wondered how much blood he had lost. 

If only Lance were here - or even Stalyan. Someone -  _ anyone _ \- who could help him find the supplies he needed, someone who could stitch him up and bandage him before he dropped from bloodloss but there was no one, no one at all, he was completely and utterly  _ alone.  _

In a moment of weakness, he shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall, fighting down a sob. It wasn’t even the first time he had been beaten up, or even the first time he had to tend to his own wounds. 

But how much longer? How many more times was he going to wake beaten and bloody and alone? How often was he going to have to stitch his own wounds, to bandage his own hurts, to tend to himself? How much longer was he going to be looking over his back,  _ waiting _ for someone to attack him? 

He knew it was the way of things - he had no one, no one  _ wanted _ him. But it hurt, made him ache almost more than the throbbing of his side. The endless years of blood and wounds and lonely, lonely nights stretched ahead of him and it took everything he had not to drop back to the floor and  _ weep _ , returning captors or not. 

But he didn’t. He bared his teeth, pressed his hand to his side and pushed himself up. He was a survivor, and he would do what he had always done. Pick himself up and  _ survive _ , the world be  _ damned _ . It hadn’t kept him down yet, and he wasn’t going to let it. 

Even if he wondered just how much longer he could keep doing this. 

~*~ 

The sun was warm on Eugene’s back as he lay on the sand, eyes closed and content. A soft breeze drifted over him, bringing the taste of the sea and the laughter of those playing it in. 

The quiet contentment only lasted for a moment, until a shadow fell over his back and he opened an eye to see Rapunzel standing above him. 

“What happened to your shirt?” she asked, smirking slightly. Eugene pushed himself up on an arm 

“It got  _ wet _ ,” he said, shooting a mock glare towards where Lance was throwing Catalina into the water. Rapunzel grinned, moving out of the sun and sitting down beside him, burrowing her toes into the sand. He turned to sit up properly as well and she leaned into him, curling her hand in his. “Besides, I was trying to get a tan.” 

“More like a sunburn,” she said with a grin. Eugene rolled his eyes and shoved her shoulder gently. 

“I dunno, Varian’s sunscreen seems to do wonders to stop that,” he said. 

“Mmm, and did you put any on your back?” Rapunzel asked. Eugene chose not to answer and she laughed. 

They sat together, heads close, leaning into each other and watched the others for a while - Angry trying desperately to get Varian into the water, Lance and Catalina splashing deeper and deeper. Cass was sitting back from the water, a pile of discarded clothes and picnic supplies scattered around her, Ruddiger sleeping on her lap. 

“How’d you get that?” 

Rapunzel’s voice pulled Eugene out of his thoughts and he started, turning to look at her. She was pointing at the long, jagged scar that ran up his side and a twisting unease washed over the contented peace of the afternoon. 

“Ah, nothing really,” he said dismissively, not really wanting to think about that day. She frowned, looking up at him, that determined expression on her face that he  _ knew _ meant she wasn’t going to rest until she had the full story. Usually he loved that about her, loved how ready she was to dig for the truth, to help wherever she could. 

“It’s a big one,” she said quietly, and carefully pressed a hand to his skin. Her touch was soft, gentle, and he surprised himself by realising he didn’t mind. She ran a finger up its length and he fought down a shudder at the memory, at the rough wood under his skin, the aching ribs, the struggle to breathe, the blade slicing through his skin, the weeks afterwards, trying to keep it from getting infected, trying to find the supplies he needed to tend to it. 

“Eugene?” 

Rapunzel’s soft voice pulled him out of the memory and he started, shaking his head. Her eyes were filled with worry, that incessant need to  _ fix _ everything shining through. He smiled and picked up the hand on his side, cupping it in both of his. 

“I’m alright, sunshine,” he said quietly. “Just bad memories.” 

“I’m here if you want to talk,” she said quietly and he knew she hated this - hated that she couldn’t fix everything, hated that he had been hurt, even if it had been a long time ago. 

“I know,” he said quietly. “It’s nothing, really. Happened a long time ago.” 

The sun seemed colder, like it wasn’t giving him the warmth it needed. He couldn’t quite shake the memory of the  _ hopelessness _ , the utter loneliness and despair, the worst years of his life that no one would ever fully understand. 

Then Varian shouted something as Angry finally pulled him into the water, and Rapunzel squeezed his arm and he snapped back to the present. He took a shaky breath and wrapped an arm around Rapunzel, pulling her close,  _ needing _ her close, needing to know that she was here, that his family was here. 

He wasn’t alone anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> i have at LEAST 3 different team awesome fics half-finished but also writer's block, apparently. So we're suffering a bit over here but I'm sure I'll get them done EVENTUALLY.


End file.
